You Are The Wind, Beneath My Wings
by I'mtheAlphahearmeRoar
Summary: Stiles is a young dragon who can't fly due to complications from birth. He desperately wants to fly and one day takes it too far by jumping off a cliff in an attempt to prove he can. Derek is an older dragon who saves Stiles' life and becomes his flying trainer. The Argents are a family of dragon slayers that are out for blood... and revenge. Dragon AU.
1. Free Fallin'

_**New story I've started. It's a Sterek Dragon AU! **_

**_Full Summary- __Flying Season, a yearly event where dragons find their soul mates. Stiles is a young dragon who can't fly, due to complications from birth. He desperately wants to fly, and one day takes it too far by jumping off a cliff in an attempt to prove he can. Add Derek, an older dragon who saves Stiles' life on one of his 'flying escapades', and who later becomes Stiles' teacher in flying. Little do the two know, but Derek is also Stiles' soul mate. Then add the Argents, a family of dragon slayers that are out for blood... and revenge._**

**_Pairings- Stiles/Derek (main) but will also feature Scott/Isaac and Danny/Jackson_**

**_Whelp, that's it. Enyoy!_**

* * *

Stiles is not afraid of flying. No, really. He _isn't_. It's just… it's not really his thing.

All the other dragons in his village have no problem with flying. No sirree, none at all. They fly like they were _born _to. Which, heh, they technically were. (If being born with wings doesn't equal up to 'born to fly' then Stiles has _no idea_ what the hell God had in mind when he'd created them. It's either flying, of some other weird talent that could be used with wings… and, to be honest? There are _not _many that go under the category of 'born with two freakishly abnormal extra joints,' some of which flutter on their own accord. Though, that usually only happens in the windy seasons).

But yeah, back to point. Stiles, was _not _a born flyer. Try as he might, he could never really get his wings to keep him airborne. He's able to get off the ground, yes, but as soon as he's more than a few metres high? Yep, _puff_ goes the dragon.

So… uh-huh, he's a sucky flyer. It's not really that bad since there's been worse names called. Like for example, jack-ass Jackson Whittemore loves to call him 'feather brain' and 'penguin.' The most offensive is penguin. Everyone knows that penguins can't fly, and _Stiles_? He _can _fly, just hasn't really excelled in the matter yet. Only because Jackson and his stupid ruby scales and wings can fly like a 'pro' _doesn't _mean he can pick on the lower class flyers (even though Stiles _will not_ consider himself 'lower class').

To be honest, it's _really_ annoying. All his friends (who is he kidding, he's only got _one_ true friend and that's Scott McCall), can fly with no troubles, though if not a little bit wonky. Scott can clear any amount of distance without the worry of crash landing, and the young teen dragon's wings, as many other dragons', are _made _to fly.

Scott's wings, just like the rest of his body, are a deep emerald. No don't get him wrong, they're still _nice_, but Stiles could really see his best friend strutting about with the whole 'neon pink' look (okay, yeah, he's _kidding_). Scott's eyes are probably the main things that stand out from his dark complexion (ha! Dragons with complexions? He's on _fire_ today), and they're a sunny golden amber. Stiles thinks that Scott's eyes are _awesome_, compared to his bizarre purple ones.

Yes, Stiles has purple eyes. His dad says that he got them from his mother, but Stiles wouldn't remember because he never got to see her. She'd died protecting her nest from dragon slayers that had wanted to steal him (dragon eggs could be sold for high prices of money, believe it or not). Stiles' dad says that she died fighting, her last breath a roar of fire that killed both slayers in one hit, sending them tumbling down the cliff and into the murky waters below.

_Bad-ass_, is what Stiles imagines his mother have being. Stiles dreams at night sometimes, and he can see a graceful snow white dragon with iridescent purple eyes and a kind smile. His father had told Stiles what she looked like numerous times, which helped the dreams when he wanted to picture her in his mind.

He wishes she were still here. He wishes she had saved him _and _survived. He wishes he had a _mother_, as well as a father. Someone who could curl her tail around him, let him sleep cuddled up nice and warm, safely in her wings. Someone who could sing him lullabies every night and let him count the stars before he closed his eyes. Someone who could help _teach _him how to fly. Would he be able to fly now, if his mother had survived?

It's a question Stiles asks himself every day, along with the question of 'why couldn't I have been taken instead of her dying?'

_"Oi, Stiles!"_

"Huh?" Stiles blinked, realizing he'd zoned out. Scott was looking at him with worried amber eyes, a frown stretched across his snout.

"Nothin', you just... zoned out for a second, dude. You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, m'fine. Just thinking, I guess."

"About… her?" Scott said, with sad eyes and a soft expression. He looked like a goddamn _puppy _when he did that, not a fierce terrifying dragon which he was supposed to be. Then again Scott never really fit under the 'fierce and terrifying' category, in the first place.

Stiles nodded weakly, nostrils flaring. He wouldn't cry. Dragons were strong, they did not cry.

"Hey, cheer up, Stiles." Scott bumped him lightly with his wing. "Flying season is coming up… and you know what that means?"

Stiles huffed. Of course he knew what that meant. It's an annual yearly thing. Every spring, Flying Season comes around. It is where all the dragons compete in numerous flying activities, showing off their skills as to see who the best is. But not only that. It is also when you find your soul mate, the one who was _born _for you, like the 'second piece to your puzzle' kinda deal.

Stiles, personally, just thinks it's stupid. There's no _way _that there's someone out there who is his one 'true love.' It's too far-fetched to think that out there, right now, is a dragon living their everyday life, clueless to that fact that they were _born _to be with him. God, that soul mate crap is so hard to believe.

Yet, among all of his doubts, there's still that one actual fact, along with a story, that he had been told ever since he was old enough to understand words. His mom and dad; they had been soul mates.

_"Me and your mother, son. We were soul mates. Meant to be together from birth, even if we didn't know it yet. When we first met each other, it was on annual flying season. I was competing in the speed dash, along with some other dragons. I was just a few more metres away from the finish line, from winning first place… when I saw her. Gosh, son, she was like an angel. Her scales white like the winter snow, shimmering in the sunlight as if they were pure diamonds. And her eyes, her eyes were so, so beautiful. We caught each other staring, our gazes locked, and that moment I knew… I knew she was the one. My significant other, the one, my soul mate."_

He had been little, only two years old, when his dad had told him the story of when he and his mother had met. Dragons aged differently from humans; a dragon year is equivalent to two human years. So technically, in human years, he was four years old when his dad had shared his story. Right now his dad was twenty one years old in dragon years, which meant he was forty two in human years. His mother would have been twenty, forty in human years.

As for Stiles, he was turning nine years old soon, which was eighteen in human years. His birthday, in fact, was in the first week of Flying Season.

"Yeah, flying season. _Woo_!" he droned, sarcastically.

Scott groaned and the ridges on his spine bristled. "Stiles, why do you hate flying season so much?"

Stiles shrugged. "I dunno; just don't see what all the hip is about. It's just flying."

"Not only that! Stiles, we get to meet our soul mate!" he cried happily, trying to get the other dragon to cheer up.

Stiles just flicked his tail in annoyance. "Yeah, _you _will."

Even if soul mates _do _exist, there is no hope in hell that Stiles will meet his own this year... or not ever. He's not worth it. He's just a sorry excuse of a dragon that can't fly for the life of him, and has an odd mixed combination of scales. His mother's and father's scale genes got mixed, it seems, and it had left him with white scales that had inky blue patches embedded in like some weird science experiment gone wrong. There was no hope for him in finding anyone. He was the only dragon with two coloured scales. And that made him abnormal and different.

Scott was about to say something, but Stiles just turned his back to his friend and walked away.

"Give me a roar later or something if you want to hang out tomorrow," he muttered, voice stiff.

Scott whined, smoke expelling out from his nostrils as he sighed and watched his friend stomp away with his head held low and his white/cerulean wings slumped down to the ground, dragging against the grassy terrain.

"Oh, Stiles."

* * *

The next morning, Stiles awakes to the smell of roasted boar drifting through the air. His nostrils flare and he licks his snout, the scent of breakfast making his stomach growl happily.

"_Jesus_, I heard that from out here, kid!" he hears his dad chuckle. "Come on out and get it while it's hot!"

Stiles rumbled happily, stretching his wings out. The muscles always get cramped when he curls them up, and every morning it takes a normal routine stretch to get them feeling more loose and comfortable. When his wings feel restored he stands up, shaking himself out (_excuse_ me, not like a dog, like a _dragon_) to get the rest of the cramps out of his body. He trots over to the entrance of their cave where his dad is roasting boars with his flames, breath sizzling them with fire.

"Lookin' good, daddy-o."

His dad turns to him with a smile.

"Why thank you." His dad coils his tail around a fully roasted boar and slides it down to him. "There you go, kid. Dig in. No shame in eating like an animal, either. I know you're hungry."

Stiles laughed. He had a thing for eating civilly. (What kind of dragon is he, right?). Just… something about ripping into his food and wolfing it down seemed very unappealing. "Nah, I'm good." He dug in, biting into the boar and eating with small bites. It was all about savouring the delicacy.

His dad just shook his head, bemused, before tearing into his own meal.

* * *

"So, Stiles, you going to compete this year?"

Stiles looked up from where he was tracing a zigzagged line in a rock with the curve of his claw, seeing Scott's expectant look. He snorted, before shaking his head. "Nope."

Scott looked horror-struck. "But… dude, why not?"

Stiles scoffed. "Yesterday ring any bells?"

Scott huffed, puffing smoke out from his nostrils. "This is just because you can't fly, right?"

Stiles felt the crack of the rock underneath his claw as it went through, and he felt the tightening in his belly that was fire threatening to rise. "No, no it's not," he snapped.

"Yeah? Well I think it is," Scott said angrily. "I know you don't want to compete because you think you're not good enough, that you can't fly."

"Because I _can't_, Scott!"

"You can! You're just not trying hard enough!"

Stiles could hear Scott breathing heavily, the tension in the atmosphere around them suffocating. He looked up to see Scott's amber eyes glowing, fangs bared in a grimace.

"No, Stiles, I didn't mean-"

"Yes, Scott. You did," he spat, getting up angrily. "But don't worry, I'll get over it! I always do, don't I buddy?"

Scott looked torn between wanting to go up to him and wing bump him, or fly away in shame. "Stiles, please. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Stiles just shrugged. "I know, but you still did."

And with that, he stormed off without any care to Scott's whimpered growling behind him.

* * *

Stiles finds himself standing above a nice spot on the edge of a cliff, looking down upon the watery depths of the ocean below. It's his favourite place to be; on top of a cliff. He can just stare at the expanse of water that stretches on and on and on for miles, enjoying the wind that drifts through the air in a warm spring breeze. He can also picture himself flying in the air, soaring up to the light and fluffy white clouds; he sometimes wonders if he _could_ fly, how easily would he camouflage with the sky and clouds. _Probably not much_, he thinks. _S__ince the blue in my scales is darker than the sky itself._

It is these moment in life, that Stiles like to appreciate to the best of his ability. The urge to fly is still strong, though. It's an all-powerful desire for a dragon to want to fly and be at one with the sky, to feel the rush and thrill of flight.

Stiles _wants_ it.

"Okay, you're going to do this," he says to himself, puffing his chest out. He looks down at the murky, blue depths below and feels a wave of fear go through him. He shakes it off. "No, no you're not chickening out. You're going to _do_ this," he tells himself again, firmly.

He expands his wings, flaring them out in preparation. He then takes a couple steps back until he's a good distance away from the edge of the cliff, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When he opens his eyes again he sees the cliff edge in front of him, urging him on, and the sky a large compass of space that calls out to him.

_Fly, Stiles. Fly though the air and be one with us._

"I will," he mutters, bravely. He lifts his head high, looking up at the clouds. "I _am_."

He rears back with his body hunched down in a stance of eagerness, wing tips curling inwards and ready to give him a needed boost when the time comes. And then he's _moving_, dashing over to the edge of the cliff. His heart is pounding, the feeling of the rush so exhilarating. He's near the edge, so, _so _close, and then the precipice is _right there… _and he just _jumps_.

As soon as his feet leave the cliff's solid ground, Stiles' uncurling the tips of wings and whipping both appendages out, trying to give himself leverage to the wind. His wings thrash against the currents of wind and there's so much _force _around him that it's battering him to and thro. It's like a rollercoaster ride. He laughs giddily, roaring to the skies as everything around him spins. It looks like the sky's shrinking and the water's starting to look closer and closer and this is so _awesome_ because he's…

…he's falling.

Oh.

Fuck.

He's _falling_.

Fear kicks in and he beats his wings, flapping them in panic, trying to get himself to rise up instead of _falling_. But it's no use and the ocean is coming up to meet him more and more as the seconds tick by and he's crashing down down down _down_ at such a fast speed he's starting to feel whiplash and it fucking _hurts _so much that the next roar he makes sounds like a _howl _of desperation.

_This_ is going to be the end of him? Death by flight? He chokes on a sob, shutting his eyes as he feels the wind currents rush past him. He'd rather die with his eyes closed, then open, just to see freezing, ice cold water and sharp rocks that would soon be cutting into him, ripping through his scales and tearing through soft flesh underneath.

_I'm such an idiot_, he thinks. _I shouldn't have done this but I did and now I'm going to die and oh god what about my dad he lost mom and now he's going to lose me too and it's going to fucking destroy him and-_

-and he's not falling anymore.

No. Seriously. He's _not_.

There's something… something carrying him?

His head is throbbing and his eyesight is bleary. He feels dizzy and faint, all the strength in his body gone with the fight for survival he'd just been through. His eyelids are fluttering and his vision starts whiting out, but before it does he catches a flash of something black… and piercing, icy blue eyes.

* * *

_**So, I hope you liked the first chapter. Second chapter will be up if people like this and give me heaps of feedback ;)**_


	2. Knight In Shining Scales

When Stiles wakes up his eyesight is hazy, everything around him is blurry, and he still feels dizzy. It's like he's taken a ride in a blender, to be honest. His whole body aches with exhaustion and his wings are stiff and cramped; when he moves them he whimpers. Definitely feels like a stretched muscle.

"_Stiles! Oh my god! Stiles are you okay!?"_

"He's fine."

_"No he's not! His wing is… Fuck, it's broken!"_

"It's not broken, just sprained."

_"But… but it's twisted!"_

"He just fell more than 200 metres, of course his wing is twisted."

"_Wh-what!? Stiles! What happened!?"_

Stiles groaned, eyesight slowly becoming clearer. He blinked, two shapes coming into view; one was in front of him, while the other was beside him. The first one looked like a… a fern? Nope, not a fern. Too emerald. That was Scott.

"Sc-Scott?"

"Stiles! Bro, are you okay?" Scott's amber eyes were wide and worried. The puppy look again. Seriously, the guy needed to _stop _doing that. He was a dragon for Christ sakes.

"Yeah, m'fine. Just… my wing. It hurts," he hissed, trying to move it but wincing when a spark of pain shot through the appendage.

"It's expected to hurt. You just fell more than 200 metres, you idiot."

_That was the voice from before_, Stiles thinks. He looks up, blinking; a black shape forms, slowly becoming clearer the more he trains his eyes.

"Who – wait, no… _What_ are you?" he asked groggily.

The thing makes a sound similar to a snort. "This one's definitely delirious. I suggest you take him home, let him get some rest."

Stiles frowned. _No way_ was he going home. His dad would to burn him _alive _for trying to jump off a cliff and fly.

"Yeah, um… Yeah, no you're right. I should probably take him back to his dad's."

Wow. _Thanks_, Scotty.

"Do you need my help to carry him?" the thing (ha, he's just gonna keep calling it 'thing' until he finds out what it is) asked Scott.

Stiles huffed, closing his eyes again when Scott accepted the offer.

_Awesome_. He was going to have some strange weirdo carrying him home.

What made it worse was the thing telling Scott to go home because, "I can handle this."

Alone, with a strange weirdo carrying him home…

_Double _awesome.

* * *

As soon as the thing had carried him home, his dad was waiting at the cave entrance with a shocked expression on his face.

"Good _lord_. Son, what happened?"

"Don' ask," he slurred at his dad. He sucked in a pained breath when the thing placed him down, accidently jostling his hurt wing.

"Sorry," it said, though to Stiles it sounded not that apologetic.

"Whatever, leave'm alone," he groaned, turning away.

The thing sighed, and then he felt a wing (ohhhhh, so it was a _dragon_. Well, that explains it) brush gently against his injured one. "You should be more careful. You nearly died today."

He scoffed. "Maybe I should've."

There was a strong huff of breath and Stiles was sure the dragon would say something back like "no you shouldn't have" but instead he only felt another brush of a wing against his own.

"Thank you for saving my son," he heard his dad say. He sounded relieved and tired. Stiles felt bad for putting his dad through this.

"It was nothing, sir. I hope he feels better soon," the dragon replied; its tone was actually surprisingly soft. There was the sound of a strong flap of wings… then nothing. Silence.

At least for a full second.

"Stiles! You have _a lot _of explaining to do, son."

"I know, dad. I'm sorry." He raised his head, looking at his dad who was frowning, in the eyes tiredly. The look on his face must have been pretty bad for his dad's face softened.

"Don't apologize, Stiles. I'm – I'm just glad you're okay," he sighed.

"Me too," Stiles said, yawning. Gosh, he was exhausted.

"Uh-uh, well. You and I are going to have a talk tomorrow about what happened today," his dad ordered, sternly.

Stiles nodded, yawning again. "Yeah, okay. Tomorrow."

He heard his dad chuckle. "Alright. Good night, kid. Talk to you tomorrow."

"Mmmkay," he muttered, before slowly drifting off to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Stiles was sat down for a father-to-son talk.

"Okay, son. Start talking."

Stiles drew in a breath, coiling his tail. It was a defence mechanism. He has been using it ever since he was little, when he'd get into trouble for doing something wrong by his dad. "So, um… I may have jumped off a cliff to try and fly and uh, I nearly fell."

His dad sighed, shaking his head. "Stiles, you know how dangerous it is to jump off a cliff. It's especially dangerous if you can't fly very well," he said.

"I _know_, but I… I just really wanted to fly, dad." He put his head down, nostrils flaring. "I want to be like everyone else. I don't want to be different."

"You _are _like everyone else, Stiles," his dad said smoothly, bumping wings with him in a comforting gesture.

"Yeah, _right_, 'cause all dragons can't fly," he mumbled.

"Now, Stiles, you know that this is not your fault," his dad said softly.

Yeah. Stiles knew it wasn't his fault. His dad told him what happened in the fight between his mother and the dragon slayers. His egg had been snatched by the male hunter while the female had been trying to keep his mother away with her sword (not that it worked), and his mother had tried to get him back. She had, but in the middle of trying to get him back he'd accidently been dropped in the tussle. His dad said his egg had cracked; a small jagged line that ran through the center. He'd taken him to the medicinal dragon and Deaton had explained that he would be okay just it may cause some complications in the future.

Oh, it most certainly had.

"Son, are you alright?"

He looked up to meet his dad's worried green eyes. "Yeah, yeah I'm good," he said, though he knew his dad could tell he was lying.

"Stiles," he began, sighing. "This isn't going to last forever, I promise. If we get you some flying lessons, I'm sure we can fix this."

Stiles scoffed. "Dad, no offense, but I don't think that's going to help. We've already tried that, remember?"

"Yes, I know that son. But I have someone else in mind, someone I am sure can teach you properly."

"Soooo what? You're saying that the only licensed flying trainer in our village didn't train me 'properly'?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, dad, but whoever you've got in mind isn't going to be able to help me."

"Now, hold on." Stiles gulped at his dad's angry voice. "I didn't say that Ms. Morrell didn't teach you properly. I'm just saying that the person I have in mind may be able to assist you a little better."

"So, is this person a flying guru or something?" he bit back, sarcastically.

"No, this person is a very good flyer. He won flying season three years in a row."

Stiles blinked. Wow. Okay, that _did _sound impressive.

"Who is this guy?" he asked.

His dad chuckled. "I believe you know him already, son."

"Uh... no? I don't think so," he said, confused. "I think I'd actually _realize_ _it_ if I knew a famous celebrity."

His dad chuckled again, loudly. "Oh, Stiles, he isn't that much of a celebrity. In fact, he rather prefers the term 'talented individual.'

"Sounds like he's full of himself," Stiles muttered.

"Oh, no, not at all," his dad said, seriously. "He is very professional. There are no ego issues you'll have to worry about."

Stiles gulped. "Wait... _I _have to worry about?"

His dad nodded. "I called him over today. He'll start your training this afternoon, so we can get you prepared for flying season."

Oh. _Fuck_.

"Dad, _no_," he said, eyes wide.

"Yes, Stiles," his dad mimicked, firmly. "You're going to work with this dragon, and you're going to get better at flying. That way I'll know that next time you try and jump off a cliff, you'll make it back home _alive_."

"I _did_ make it back home alive!"

"Barely." His dad spoke with great seriousness.

Stiles' head dropped and he huffed. "Okay, _fine_. I'll take the stupid flying lessons."

And no, Stiles didn't smile when his dad wing bumped him with a happy growl. He _didn't_.

* * *

Stiles is in the cave, resting quietly on his bed of pebbles (what? Pebbles are _nice_), when he hears the sound of something landing on the ground outside. His dad was out; wouldn't be back until night fall. So it's definitely not his dad. He instantly jerks up, hissing when his wing scrapes along the cave wall beside him, and stands. He walks outside slowly and cautiously, looking around for the thing that had made the sound.

"I see that you're feeling much better."

Stiles whips around and, as a defense mechanism, breathes out a surge of fire at whoever had intruded on his territory.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" he hears whoever's there roar out angrily.

"Um." When the fire clears, Stiles sees that he'd just blown fire at another dragon. "Oops. Sorry?"

The other dragon just sneers. "Watch it. Next time I might fire back… and trust me, you don't want that."

Stiles would usually have a snazzy comeback but right now, all he can do is stare.

The dragon in front of him is something of true beauty. Its scales are a sleek, glossy black like polished leather. The scales look so smooth, not rough like most dragons' are. Stiles wants to rub his face all over it, just to see how it feels under his own scales. And its eyes... its eyes are so goddamn_ gorgeous_. They're blue, a frosty hue of sapphire; they glow so brightly, it lulls Stiles into a dream-like state. They also, look very familiar…

"I'm Derek, your new flying teacher. Your dad probably would have already told you about me?"

Stiles blinks. The only words going through his head are "I'm Derek."

_Derek_…

He couldn't quite place it, but the name sounded…

"Hey! I'm talking to you."

Stiles shook himself out of his stupor. Derek was looking at him with a raised… eyebrow? Nope. No way. Dragons didn't have eyebrows. Yet, right now, Derek _certainly _looked like he had them.

"Yeah… dad mentioned I was going to have somebody coming around here later to teach me how fly." He nodded. "Winner of flying season three years in a row, yeah?"

Derek looked impressed. "That's right."

"Wow. Man, that's _so_ cool," he grinned.

"Not really. If you get enough practice, anyone can win."

Stiles frowned, though agreed anyway. "Yeah… uh, yeah that's believable. Yeah."

Derek's snout twitched in a smirk. "So, are you ready to go?"

Stiles wasn't, not really. But yet, he found himself saying, "Sure. Let's go."

* * *

_**Aghsksjlsjsljsljshflkasjh...**_

_**Thank you for the feedback last chapter, guys! I loved it! I think we can do a little better but gosh, YES, I feel loved right now lol.**_

**_This new chapter was for you guys being such awesome readers. Hu-rah to you people! _**

**_Next chapter shall be posted after me receiving more reviews/favs/follows and having a scream-fest because of all the support. CHA CHING!_**

**_Love ya's ;)_**


	3. An Abomination, You Are Not

Stiles quickly learned that Derek was a very tough trainer. The older dragon was always ordering him to follow his movements step by step, 100% correctly, and if he didn't Derek would yell out for him to "stop!" and "try again!" and when he talked back he'd just get the "shut up!" or "quit talking and _do it_!"

Only an hour in, and Stiles felt exhausted both physically _and _mentally.

"Ok, ok, ok, _stop_!" he cried when Derek had yet again barked out another "try again!" in his 'growly voice.'

"What?" Derek snapped angrily, flying down from the sky and landing next to him. "The more you chit-chat, the more of my time you're wasting."

Stiles clenched his fangs together, jaw muscles tensing as he fought back fire that was threatening to escape. This guy was seriously _infuriating_.

"_Great_, another minute of my time wasted," Derek growled, shaking his head. "Kid, you're gonna need to shut up so I can actually _teach_ you something."

Yep, that was when Stiles exploded.

"You've been doing that for the past _hour_, but guess what? IT'S NOT WOKING! So why don't you just fly away and _piss off_ with your stupid growly _face _and find some other loser to teach!" he roared, spitting flames.

Stiles was so _angry _that he didn't notice Derek's eyes glowing, or the fact his fangs were showing through lips that were pulled back in a snarl. He was so angry in fact, that when Derek pounced on him he actually clawed the older dragon's face.

"Did you… did you just..?"

Stiles sneered. "Yep. That's what assholes like you get when you piss me off."

Derek looked ready to _obliterate _him. The older dragon was growling, rumbled roar reverberating in his chest, his whole body thrumming with rage. "You," he spoke deadly soft, tone cold and calculated, "are not going to do that again."

Stiles shouldn't have, he _really _shouldn't have. Yet he did…

He snorted.

It seemed that was the last straw for the older dragon, because as soon as the snort had bubbled out of him, Derek was pressing a claw to his throat, digging it in so Stiles could feel the sharp prick on his scales. "You need to be more respectful to your elders," he hissed.

"Yeah? Well, _you _need to learn not to abuse your students," Stiles snapped back.

"Don't," Derek warned, "talk. _Back_."

"You gonna make me?" Stiles countered, smirking.

It _really _looked like the older dragon was going to take the offer, but before he could do anything there was a loud roar from behind them.

"_STILES!"_

"Oh great," Derek groaned, releasing Stiles' throat and moving off of him.

When Stiles noticed who it was that had made Derek get off of him, he smiled.

"Scott! Buddy, what are you doing here?"

Scott flew down, landing beside them a little wobbly. "I flew into your dad a few minutes ago and he told me you were taking flying lessons. I thought I'd come around to see how you were doing." He then turned to Derek, when he did his face lit up. "Hey! You were the one who saved Stiles' life yesterday," he said happily. "Thank you, dude. I can't thank you enough!"

_W-What…_

Stiles frowned. "Scott… what did you just say?"

Instead of Scott, it was Derek who spoke. "You were lucky. If I hadn't been there to catch you, you would have died. "

Stiles opened his mouth, but closed it before he spoke. He didn't know what to say. He was speechless. Derek… Derek had saved him? It was _Derek _who had saved him_?_

"You were also lucky that you only managed to sprain your wing," Derek continued. "Falling from a height like that, you could have done a lot worse."

The more Derek spoke, the more afflicted Stiles felt. What Derek was saying, was all true. He could have broken a wing. He could have… he could have _died_.

"Thank you," he whispered, weakly. Derek looked at him, angry scowl softening. Scott was doing the puppy thing again, staring in his direction sadly. "Just… thank you. Seriously. Thank you so much, for saving me. I – I wasn't thinking and… and I shouldn't have.."

"It's fine," Derek assured. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"We both are," Scott said gently.

Stiles nodded, inhaling shakily. "Me too," he muttered.

It was quiet for a while, but after a few minutes Derek cleared his throat. "I think that's enough flying for today. We can continue tomorrow."

Stiles looked over to the older dragon, noticing that his demeanor wasn't as firm like before. He looked… he looked tired.

"Are you okay?" he asked Derek.

Derek turned to him and nodded. "I'm fine."

"Bu-"

"I'll see you tomorrow. Same time, same place. Don't be late."

Before Stiles could say anything Derek was taking to the skies, ebony black wings beating rapidly against the wind. Stiles watched awed, as Derek glided through the sky, soaring with grace the younger dragon had only seen birds have.

Gosh, who _was_ this dragon…?

* * *

The next day when Stiles goes over to the meadow, Derek isn't there.

Stiles frowned.

_I'm here, _he thinks. _I__t's the same time as yesterday, and it's definitely the same place too. Where is he?_

Stiles, after a few more minutes, finds a nice comfortable looking rock; he waits there. He lays on it and slowly closes his eyes, feeling the warm rays of sunlight shine down on his back, heat absorbing itself into his scales.

It's only been another ten or so minutes, when Stiles hears a flap of wings in the distance. He opens one eye, thinking that Derek has finally arrived, only to groan when he sees…

"Ah, look at who we have here. It's poor little penguin Stilinski!"

"Go away, Jackson," he growls. "I'm busy."

Stiles hears Jackson snort. "Busy with what, trying to get a tan?" he laughs.

"No," he snaps. "I'm waiting for someone. So if you could kindly piss off, that'd be _awesome_."

This time Stiles can't mistake the angry huff of breath that Jackson inhales, but that's gone when the other dragon chuckles. "Who would want to meet up with _you_?" he says, disgust clearly evident in his tone.

Stiles growls, sitting up and turning to face the ruby scaled dragon standing there and looking like he owns the place. "Oh, just someone who's going to help me kick your ass in flying season this year," he smirks.

Jackson barks out a loud, amused splutter. "You beat _me_? I'm sorry, Stilinski, but I think the fall you had yesterday messed with your feather brain head."

"You heard about t-"

"Oh yeah, _everyone _knows that the poor feather brain can't fly for shit," Jackson remarks.

Stiles feels his stomach churn. He feels sick. Especially when Jackson laughs, silvery eyes full of mean spark.

"I mean, this is just like the movie… what's it called? Happy feet? Yeah, that's right. See, you're this stupid, flightless dragon that's got nothing to live for. Oh, but not only that. Oh no, you actually _think _you can learn how."

Stiles wants to cry. He feels tears in his eyes, and when Jackson laughs again, this time loudly and more amused, everything inside him crumbles at the dragon's next words.

"And right there, _that's _the saddest part," Jackson chuckles. "Because no matter how _hard _you try, no matter how many dragons you manage to trick into helping your flightless ass, you will _never _ever be able to fly. You get that? You are _never_ ever, _ever _going to be at one with the sky. The sky is too good for you, Stilinski."

Stiles _is _crying. There are tears streaming down his face, drops of crystalized wetness making his eyesight blurry. Jackson's next words, though, hit the _hardest_.

"And unlike that movie, you're no Mumble. You aren't going be able to find some other new _talent _like tapping your feet to a stupid little love song and winning the heart of your soul mate. _Soul mate_? I mean, _seriously_? That's a joke," Jackson laughs. "You're never going to find your soul mate, Stilinski. You wanna know why? Huh? It's because you don't _have _one."

"E-Everyone has one," Stiles stammers, sniffling.

Jackson snorts out another laugh. "Yeah, everyone can _fly_. But you? You have wings, sure you do, yet you _can't_ fly. This just proves it. It proves that you're not _like _everybody else. You're no dragon. Dragons can _fly_ and dragons don't have two color scales like a weird ass abomination. Because that's what you are, Stilinski. You're an _abomination_. An abomination to our kind, an abomination to the world. That's why you don't have a soul mate. Because you weren't meant to be born. Abominations like you are not _meant_ to be _born_."

Stiles chokes on a whimper. His whole body is shaking and tears are dissolving his face into a mess of blubbering slobber and wetness.

And Jackson is still going on with his teasing and mocking; still _abusing _his existence.

"So, no Stilisnki. You don't have a soul mate. Soul mates are for _true _dragons, something that you are not, and _never _will be. An abomination is what you are, and abominations don't deserve _anything_. If anything, they deserve be to destro-"

"**_ENOUGH_**!"

Stiles actually jumps at the thunderous roar. A sob wracks through him when he sees Derek's dark form gliding through the air, before the older dragon lands beside him.

"Who are you?" Jackson snaps. He obviously has no idea what he's getting into.

Stiles turns and sees Derek's eyes; they're glowing a pure icy electric blue. Derek's fangs are showing and he looks so _angry_, Stiles is absolutely petfrifed.

"What the hell did you just say to him!" Derek snarls at Jackson, the spikey quills on his face rippling out in rage. It's not something Stiles has seen another dragon have. This is the first dragon he's ever seen that has them. It makes Derek look like an angry bearded dragon… an angry, _terrifying _bearded dragon.

Jackson must be freaked out by it too, because he doesn't even _answer _the question, just flies off in such a hurry he nearly plummets to the ground twice.

When Jackson is gone Stiles turns to Derek. The older dragon's quills are still out; they're quivering, rising and falling like Derek's having trouble controlling his rage.

"D-Derek?" he says, hesitantly. His voice is weak and there are still tears in his eyes but… but Derek being there makes him feel a little better.

Derek looks to him, eyes still glowing. "Are you okay?" he asks, ignoring Stiles' own question.

Stiles sniffled. "I – I guess."

Derek growls and Stiles shivers. "No. That's not what I asked," he said angrily. "I asked, if you were okay. Are. You. Okay?"

Stiles, this time, shakes his head. "No. N-No, not really," he murmured.

A flash of something akin to worry shows through on Derek's features and the quills of his spine immediately spike up, shooting out of the scales. "Did he hurt you?" he asks, fiercely. "Because if he did I'll find him and rip his-"

"No!" Stiles cries, and Derek looks confused. "I mean, he didn't… didn't hurt me." He drops his head. "Well, not – not physically…"

Derek sighs and Stiles sees the quills on both his face and spine disappear beneath the scales again, like they'd never been there. "I heard what he said to you, and that's not true."

"What part?" A laugh bubbles out of Stiles, choked and morbid.

Derek brushes a wing against his own, gently, and when Stiles looks up he is staring at him with the gentlest look Stiles has ever seen on the older dragon's face. "Everything."

Stiles… Stiles cries. He just cries. The flood gates open again and before he knows it, he's surging forward and burying his head under Derek's chin, sobbing wretchedly.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. Calm down. It's okay." Derek speaks softly, quietly, and Stiles feels leathery smooth wings encase him in like a cocoon. They feel _safe _and they emit warmth, like Stiles is sitting in front of a fire. He's never felt anything like it before. He feels… he feels a _connection_.

He stays there, crying, as Derek whispers gentle comforts to him and keeps him curled in his wings, like a protective barrier from the cold, cruel world.

By the time night falls, Stiles knows that Derek isn't just any other dragon.

* * *

_**People. Oh people, you spoil me so :P Thank you for those who gave me feedback, it is very muchly appreciated! **_

_**Yes, Jackson is a total jerk here. I'm afraid to say that even as a dragon, he is a huge dick to Stiles. God bless Der Der for sticking up for him. Such a sweetie that guy - erm, dragon - is. Well, when he wants to be. Derek ain't all soft, as you saw. Next chapter will be shorter than most, just a heads up. But I do hope you stick around. I have much planned :)**_


	4. Son Of A Hale

"Like this?" Stiles asked, flaring his wings out wider. He starts beating them up and down in a rhythm that may be a bit too fast, but he doesn't really care since it lifts him a few meters off the ground.

"Yep, that's right. Now just," Derek flies over to him, then circles around him, looking over the position that he's in, "curl your wings tips in." Stiles does. "Yeah, just like that, now slow down yo-"

Stiles doesn't get to hear the rest of Derek's sentence because after the next two beats of his wings… he's on the ground, growling softy in pain and moving his tail out from under him. "Well, that sucked," he grumbled.

Derek flies down, landing so _gracefully _Stiles is jealous. "You need to pay more attention to your wings, time the beats more carefully. You should be doing one beat per second, not five beats per second."

_Oh, so wing beats count as 'important'_, Stiles thinks, feeling stupid. _O__kay so probably the reason why I epically fell to my doom_.

"Try again," Derek says when Stiles doesn't make any kind of response. "And see if you can space out the beats of your wings. It'll help."

Stiles nods, flaring his wings out and curling the tips in, then he starts beating them to the rhythm Derek had told him to follow out. His body lifts off the ground, slower than last time, but Stiles surprisingly feels more in control this way.

"That's good. You're doing great," Derek praises, and Stiles grins happily. It's the first praise the older dragon has given him.

When Stiles is at least six metres off the ground he curls the tips of his wings outwards, just a little bit though, so he has better leverage. He continues to flap both appendages to the one-beat-per-second rhythm, and when that works out perfectly Stiles thinks that he can do better. He uncurls the tips of his wings fully, so now he won't be just staying airborne in the same spot. Next, he leans himself forward so that his whole body's horizontal, not vertically upright like when he rose from the ground.

"Stiles, what are you doing?" he hears Derek call up to him. When he doesn't reply, just beats his wings faster, he hears that the next words that come out of Derek's mouth are panicked. "Stiles! Stiles, no! You're not ready for that that yet!"

But, _of course_, he doesn't listen.

* * *

"_Uuuuurgghh_," Stiles groaned, blinking his eyes open. His eyesight is sort of wishy-washy and his head is swimming, feeling all loopy-like. He sees a black blob and thinks giddily, _can blobs talk 'cause this one is really yell-y_.

"Stiles!"

_Whoa! Okay. That's not a blob_, Stiles thinks, when the black 'blob' merges itself into a… a very worried and angry looking Derek.

"You're an idiot," Derek says, but it's surprisingly not as angry, then more amused.

"I know," Stiles quips, smirking. "Idiot's my middle name." He gets up shakily, swaying a bit. Derek steadies him, the older dragon's wings nice balancing appendages. "So, how did I do?" he asks.

Derek stares at him, gaze calculating. The dragon's probably thinking, _this kid is nuts why the hell did I sign up for this_, but instead he says, "Not bad."

Stiles finds himself grinning. "Yes!" he whoops happily.

"But," Derek continues, eyebrow (_something on his face_ that is _not_ an eyebrow because dragons do not _have _eyebrows for God's sake) raised, "it would have been better if you didn't try to exceed your capabilities."

"Exceed my w_hat_?" Stiles spluttered.

"You capabilities," Derek says, like it's just _that _obvious. "You need to identify what your capabilities are, and when you do that, you work from there. You can't just start getting into the heavy stuff before you know if you can handle it." Stiles opened his mouth, about to speak. "_No_, you can't handle it. You just proved that to me before. Stick with what you know, for now. Otherwise, you'll get hurt."

Stiles frowned. Derek looks back at him, glaring at him like he's saying, _you know I'm right so why don't you just make this easier for both of us and listen for once_. He groans. "Fine, okay, I'll, I'll take this… slowly."

Derek nods, pleased. "Good. Now," he lifts his head up to the sky, "try again." When Stiles grins, beating his wings eagerly, Derek sighs. "And this time, don't exceed your limits."

Stiles smirked. "Hey but, but before you said they were capabi-"

"_Go_."

Stiles chuckles and starts flapping his wings; his body begins rising off from the ground. Below him, Derek looks up at him with a… is that a smile on the older dragon's face?

No, it couldn't be.

He's just seeing things.

* * *

"So, how was flying lesson?" his dad asks him when he gets home.

Stiles grinned. "_Awesome_. Derek is such a great teacher. I mean he like, literally knows _everything _about flying."

His dad nods. "I would think so. He is, after all, the son of Talia Hale."

Stiles gaped. "_N_o way."

Talia Hale was head dragon of the village itself. Well… that was before she'd disappeared ten years ago. Stiles hadn't been born yet, so he doesn't know. But he has been clued in a little. Things like - that everyone still doesn't know where she went, yet some have ideas. Some dragons believe that she left to discover other lands, vaster places across the sea. Stiles doesn't believe that one bit, though. It's not possible. Because Derek would have been… _Christ_, he would have been six years old (twelve years old in human years) or a bit older. Only young. A mother wouldn't leave her kid at such a young age just to travel the land.

"Yes way." His dad's chuckle brought him out of his thoughts. "Talia Hale's son, indeed he is."

"Does he… believe the stories?" Stiles found himself asking, hesitantly.

His dad was quiet for a second. Stiles was worried that he'd asked a too private question to be answered, but his worries were doused as his dad sighed. "I don't know, son. Derek… Derek probably isn't too sure what to believe."

Stiles was about to ask if his dad had any ideas of what could have happened to Talia Hale when his dad beat him to it. "To be honest, I bet you nobody really knows what to believe. She disappeared without a trace, no word to anyone on why or where. Other dragons may think they know, but even so. It is still a mystery."

Stiles nodded, slowly. He didn't ask his dad any more questions about Talia Hale after that, but thoughts and assumptions about what could have happened seemed to run patterns through his mind for the rest of the night. Even in his sleep.

…maybe a pretty gruesome and bloody nightmare, too.

* * *

_**Like I said beforehand, this chapter is short. Next chapter will be longer, promise. **__**Thank you for everyone who's given me the support to continue posting. It truly means a lot and I am forever grateful :)**_


	5. Meet Isaac

The next day when Stiles goes to training, Derek isn't there.

_Oh no, not again_, Stiles thinks. _Do__n't tell me this is going to be a replay of what happened two days ago_.

He really, _really _does not want to see Jackson's smug, jerk-off face today. He just wants to hang out with Derek, train his butt off, and gain the awesome skills in flying so he can be at least _a little_ kick-ass in Flying Season this year.

"Not going to happen, I guess," he mumbles sadly, finding his special rock and curling up on it, wings furling out and shielding his face to block out the hot sun rays from beating down on him. The more of spring that passes, the hotter the days become. Just a lovely fact of Beacon Mountain for ya.

He waits, and waits, and waits, and _waits _for Derek to show up… but the older dragon never comes.

When dusk falls, Stiles is still lying there worriedly. The air's cool, chilly enough for Stiles to feel it all the way in his scales. Also the moon's shining down onto the meadow grass, illuminated white light making the grass glow. It looks so magical, Stiles nearly forgets why he was worried. But then a mental picture of Derek's black scales, blue eyes and smirk pop into his mind, and he's back to worrying all over again.

_God, where are you Derek_, he thinks, slightly shivering and curling his wings around himself when the wind blows a rather drafty amount of freezing, ice cold breeze his way, making the meadow grass sway to the current like it's under the weather's control.

* * *

When morning comes Stiles is _still _there. He's asleep and snoring softly, chest rising and falling to every inhale and exhale while his wings flutter lightly in tandem to each breath. He's peaceful, all about up to when a loud, booming voice wakes him up.

"STILES!"

Stiles actually jumps in surprise, wings flaring in a panicked, frenzied whirlwind of flapping. He yelps and promptly ends up falling off the rock when he sees Derek looming over him, the older dragon's body shadowing him from the morning sunlight. "Derek! What the fuck!?"

"Stiles, what are you doing here? Did you _sleep _here the whole night?" Derek looks… amused. That fucker.

Stiles grumbles quietly under his breath, getting up. "Yes, I did. Because _someone _didn't show up for flying lessons yesterday and I was _waiting _for them and, guess _what_? I ended up falling _asleep."_

Derek looks even more amused when the next words come out of his mouth.

"I don't teach flying lessons on Sunday."

Stiles blanches. In rage. _Totally _in rage. He is _angry_. So, so, so, _so _angry. He is _not _amused. At all. Not in the slightest. Not even if Derek may actually be full on grinning for the first time ever in reaction to his shock. No. Nope. He is _angry _and no one can prove him anything otherwise.

"No, no, _you _did not say anything about there being no training on Sundays," he said, wishing that he had hands so he could point an accusing finger at Derek.

"Yes, I did. At the beginning. First day." Derek looked like he expected Stiles to just give in to defeat and prove that he was right. No, no way was he going to do that.

"No, Derek, you didn't. You did not mention anything to me at all about 'Sundays' and 'too lazy to train'."

"Okay, first off? I'm not lazy. Second? I _did _tell you that Sundays were not on my schedule."

"Yeah, right! You're lazy _and _you're a liar!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"I'm _not_!"

Stiles smirked. "You are so, Derek," he singsonged.

"Look," Derek started, growling. "I am n-"

"Derek is a liar! Derek is a liar! Derek is a liar! Derek is a lia-_ungh_!"

Stiles was _not_ prepared for Derek to lunge at him, tackling him to the ground. He gave a surprised roar and rolled around, wriggling his body wildly and trying to free himself of the giant mass of growling dragon on top of him. "Ah! Derek, get _off _me! Ow!"

"Say that Derek's an awesome flying teacher, first," Derek smirks, deliberately making himself heavier so Stiles' struggling proves useless.

"No way," he snaps, but can't help but chuckle at the smirk on the older dragon's face. "You are _not _awesome, man. _I _am not going to turn myself into a liar just for your benefit."

"Isn't it _your _benefit that's on the line, here?" Derek pressed down harder. "I mean, I _am _the one on top of you and at the moment, nearly crushing you to death."

Stiles spluttered. "What... but... that... that doesn't count!"

"You don't think so?"

Stiles didn't like the look on Derek's face. He despised it. It was _evil_.

"No, no I do not," he said, sniffing airily. "And I kindly ask for you to remove your huge dragon butt off me or so help me I will-"

Derek's laughing.

"What?" Stiles frowns, but Derek just cackles again. "_What_? What the hell is so funny!"

"Y–y-y-you," Derek manages to say around the bubbles of laughter.

Stiles just sighs. "It's 'cause I said 'dragon butt' isn't it?"

Derek laughs even harder.

"Guess so," he mutters.

It takes around five minutes of Derek laughing and Stiles stupidly lying there with a half grin/half scowl for Derek to get off of him.

(Stiles does not give in and say that Derek is an awesome flying teacher, though. He does _not_).

…even though Derek kinda is…

* * *

"So. How are flying lessons with Derek? You getting any better?" Scott asks the following week while they're hanging out at his cave.

Stiles shrugs and internally thinks, _they're awesome and I can already tell you that Jackson is going to get his ass kicked, seriously._ Instead he says, "Yeah, they're not bad."

Scott snorts and gives him a look. Stiles knows it's the _I know there's more to it than that dude so spill _look, and he can't help but wonder if he and _Scott _might be soul mates what with all their mind and face reading skills they've got going between each other.

"That's not all, Stiles. There's something else, man," Scott says, smirking. "What is it?"

Stiles mentally gives his brain a high-five. Scott face reading skills accomplished. "Nothing." He waves it off. "It's nothing."

"Doesn't _sound _like nothing," Scott singsongs. Stiles is actually very _so _close to wing slapping him.

"Well it is nothing, Scott," he says, giving his best friend the _Scott drop it because I am not telling you and if you continue bugging me I will hurt you _look.

"Okay, if you say so," Scott grins. "But Stiles? I _will _find out eventually, dude."

Stiles can't help but want to curl up into himself because he _knows _how true that is.

* * *

It's on a bright, sunny Monday morning when Stiles and Scott meet Isaac. He and Scott are out at the meadow doing some flying together (he and Scott made it a weekly thing to fly together, just so that Stiles could practice with someone else who wasn't Derek. It helped his confidence, having his best friend watch him fly and see what progress he'd made) when a purple, yep, _purple _dragon flew down onto the ground below them and sat itself down to watch them fly.

"Hey Scott! We got ourselves an observer!" Stiles yelled to his best friend, grinning.

"Huh?" Scott looked down, eyes widening comically when he saw the purple dragon. "Wow… so pretty," he said, voice surprisingly dreamy.

"Uh… Scott?" Stiles flew over to the other dragon, bumping wings with him. "Did you… did you just call that dragon _pretty_?"

Scott ignored him, still gazing down at the dragon, which was now looking up at them with also wide… wow, orange eyes. "So… so pretty," he droned again.

Seriously? Stiles wanted to kill himself.

Stiles looked away, counting to ten. "Scott, buddy, maybe we should g-" Stiles blinked, turning back around and realizing he was talking to thin air. He looked down, sighing dramatically when he saw Scott on the ground, talking to the dragon standing below them. He flew down, joining them. "Sorry about him, he's-"

"This is Isaac," Scott cut him off with a huge grin, amber eyes largely gleeful.

Stiles turned to Isaac and smiled. "Stiles," he said. Isaac nodded, looking to the ground shyly and muttering, "Hello."

Stiles wanted to burst at the cuteness of the shy guy. He looked to Scott to see his best friend staring dreamily at Isaac with… no, _nope _that was not stars in those eyes. No way. That was fairytale myth, God damn it.

"Urhm. Scott, do you want me to… want me to leave you guys to t-"

"Yes please!" Stiles blinked at Isaac's sudden outburst, tilting his head. Isaac coughed. "I mean it would be great if Scott and I could talk… alone," he said, shyly.

Huh.

"Sure. That's... that's okay. I'll see you later, right Scott?" He turned to see Scott blatantly ignoring him to continue staring dreamily at Isaac. He sighed. "Or not, then. Yeah, I'll… I'll go now."

Stiles started to walk away, but was stopped by Isaac calling, "Wait!"

"Yeah?" he said, turning back around.

Isaac grinned sheepishly. "Thanks."

Stiles smiled, chuckling. "No problem at all, Isaac."

(This was also the Monday when Scott began to start skipping flying sessions to hang out with Isaac).

* * *

**_Sorry about the long wait. I hope this chapter was okay, and the next one will definitely be up tomorrow! :)_**


	6. Wise Words

Flying Season is drawing nearer. Stiles can feel it. How can he feel it? Well, maybe 'cause his birthday is in five days. In five days he will be nine years old (eighteen in human years). Like, _wow_. If he were human he'd be the legal age for se-

"Stiles! Are you even _paying attention_?"

Stiles blinks and lifts his head to look up at Derek who's frowning at him from a few meters in the air above him, large black wings flapping at an easy, relaxed pace to keep him airborne. The damn guy is just so _good _at flying, dammit. Stiles is jealous and will _still _be jealous until he can fly as good as Derek can.

"Yeah?" he asks, flying up to meet the older dragon, their bodies side by side. "What is it?"

Derek huffs. "_Nope_, of course you weren't."

Stiles blinks again. "Huh?"

Derek glares at him. "Stiles, you _have _to pay attention to me when I'm talking to you. If you miss any of my instructions, you won't be able to complete this exercise."

Oh. _Oh_. That's why.

"Sorry," he says, smiling sheepishly. "What were your instructions again?"

Derek sighs, exasperated. "Expand the width of your wings."

Stiles does as he's told, smirking when it's done. "Okay, that's easy. Next?"

Derek chuckles. "Nope, you're not done yet. I want you to expand them until you feel your muscles stretch. You gotta feel a pull."

Stiles gapes. "But, dude, that'll hurt!"

Derek shrugs. "If there's no pain, you're not doing it right."

Stiles did _not _sign up for this. Derek is turning _crazy_. He wants him to purposely _hurt _himself? Yeah, fuck that.

"No way," he says, shaking his head. "I'm _not_ doing that."

Derek snorts. "And you expect to win Flying Season _how_?"

Stiles frowns. "Hey, now, there's no need to bring that into it."

"Okay, fine. Then what _do _you want me to bring into this?" Derek asks, and does the thing where Stiles is sure the dragon's got a pair of freakishly sassy eyebrows.

"I don't know, just not that," Stiles grumbled.

Derek sighs and Stiles feels the older dragon bump wings with him. He shivers at the contact; can't help but feel all tingly for some reason.

"I know you don't want me to say this, but you have to listen to me. To win Flying Season you have to know everything I'm teaching you, or am going to teach you," Derek says softly.

Stiles looks at Derek, and he sees the vibrant glow that illuminates the dragon's blue eyes; finds himself lulled by it, along with Derek's voice.

"That also includes this," Derek continues. "Because if you can fly, even with the lingering pain of a pulled or stretched muscle, you've a better chance of winning. When Flying Season comes up, it's not going to be all easy, slow paced flying anymore. It's going to be fast, it's going to be quick, and it's going to be brutal. You're going to be battered around, and you're going to find yourself having to keep going, to push yourself through it all, even if you just want to give up."

Derek's words are moving. Stiles finds himself held captive; by the older dragon's true wisdom, and soft tone. He wonders if Derek is speaking from experience.

"So, Stiles, I want to see you try. Give it a shot. And if you can't do it today, that's fine. We'll keep on at it tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. We'll keep practicing until you can do it. Because I know you can, Stiles. I know you can do this. Determination, strength, stamina; they're all things that you have. I've seen them all; you've showed me them over the past few weeks I've been working with you. And that's everything you need to win, Stiles. You have it; now all you need to do is let it out."

By the time Derek's finished speaking, Stiles is well and truly awed. All the things that Derek has said, he'd never realized. It's like Derek knows him better than he knows _himself_.

"I want to see if you can cover the distance from here," Derek points over to a cliff face about 50 metres away, "to there." He bumps his wing against Stiles' again when Stiles doesn't make any move to reply. "I know you can do it, Stiles. You just have to believe in yourself. Trust your instincts."

"I, uh, yeah, okay." Stiles nods at Derek, smiling lightly at the gentle expression on the older dragon's face. He takes a breath, the first breath in what feels like ages, and expands his wings out further. He winces when he feels the pull Derek was talking about earlier, hissing quietly.

"You feel that?" Derek asks. Stiles nods. "That's what you're going to be feeling, and you have to train yourself to ignore it. Become o-"

"If you say 'become one with the pain' I think I'm gonna die. _Literally_."

Derek chuckles. "-become one with the pain, and then you can focus fully on winning."

Stiles stares at him wearily. "You've killed me. I'm dead. _Thank you_, Derek. I am now no longer a living dragon."

Derek snorts. "If you're able to keep on going with your chit-chat, you're still a living dragon," he muses.

Stiles glares dryly. "I don't like you."

Derek shrugs, smirking. "It's not my concern whether you like me or not, Stiles. My job is to teach you, and that's what I'm doing. Now, I want to see you fly that distance."

Stiles' glare hardens but he does as he's told all the same, flying off in the direction Derek had ordered him to. He hears Derek call out to him, even from the distance he's gained from the older dragon.

"And keep those wings outstretched! I don't want to see them folding back in!"

"Not even a little bit!?"

"No!"

"_So _don't like you, dude!"

"Don't care! And don't call me dude!"

Stiles, even though the discomfort in his wings is a bitch, still manages to chuckle.

* * *

"So, you and Isaac kissed yet?" Stiles teased. Scott, who was flying a little overhead, nearly plummeted down from the air in shock. The emerald dragon whipped around, amber eyes wide.

"Stiles! What the hell, man!?"

Stiles shrugged, gliding easily over to his best friend. Derek had taught him the awesome ability of the glide a few days ago. It was awesome. "What? You can try and meddle yourself in my love life but I can't meddle myself in yours? I don't think so, buddy," he chuckled.

Scott looked like he was blushing and Stiles laughed. "It, it's, Isaac and I aren't... I don't have a love life!" he spluttered.

Stiles sighed, shaking his head. "Oh, Scotty, you really need to stop it with the, y'know, lying thing. 'Cause it _never _works," he mused.

Scott frowned, but then brightened. Stiles didn't like it. "Hey, wait, you... _you_ said 'my love life'."

"Nope, I don't believe I did," Stiles said, though anyone could hear the light hesitant stammer in his voice.

"Uh, yes you did, Stiles," Scott smirked. "C'mon. Give me the goss. Have you and Derek screwed yet?"

"What the fuck!?"

"So you did?" Scott grinned.

"_No_!"

Scott made a sad face. "Aw, but you guys have such a _connection_, dude." Then he grinned. "You should so totally get up in all that."

"_Scott_!"

Scott laughed. "C'mon, don't say that you don't want to."

Stiles snorted. "I don't."

"You do."

"Ah, no, I don't."

Scott just shrugged. "Whatever you say, bro. Just know that I know the truth."

Stiles scowled. "And what's that?"

"That you want to make sweet gooey gooey love with Derek, of course," Scott teased.

(If you ask Stiles why Scott went home limping and complaining from a sore tail that day, he will still forever deny that he bit it).

* * *

_**OMG. I completely forgot to upload this the day I said I would. I am SO SORRY. I hope you guys like this. I swear next chapter will be up in the next week or so!**_


	7. Kissing The Dirt

"Hey Isaac, has Scott tried to jump ya yet?" Stiles smirked as he asked the purple dragon a question which under _all_ available circumstances was really none of his business. Who said he cares about privacy anyway? Not anyone, that's who. Privacy is a term he is not in favour of. He'd rather snoop about and meddle around like a naughty little dragon. It's more his style.

Isaac, being the shy dragon he was, of course became very flustered. Stiles couldn't help but snort when Isaac turned to him with wide orange eyes that nearly bugged right out of his head. "W-Why?" he stammered.

Stiles shrugged, playing innocent. "Oh, nothing. Just some revenge for the other day."

A frown tugged itself across Isaac's lips and the purple dragon tilted his head. "Um. I don't remember doing, or saying anything," he said thoughtfully, so thoughtfully that Stiles found it adorable.

Stiles chuckled. "Oh no, no! No, ha hah, you have me mistaken." Isaac's frown deepened, and nope. That was too much. "It was Scott. This is me getting revenge on Scott. Not you. Don't worry Isaac, buddy. You're safe." Sties smiled, trying to make it warm and friendly, though judging by Isaac's eyes widening even more it was probably his creepy manic smile that freaked everyone out. Just like it was doing to poor Isaac right now. _Crap_.

"Uh… so I'm meant to feel safe?" Isaac sounded like he was actually considering flying off, his voice deliberately shaken and anxious. "Because right now, I find myself lacking that."

Stiles sighed. "Okay, yeah, understandable… sorry. Ahem, I'll just…" He tuned down his smile a few notches and Isaac visibly relaxed. "Yeah. Right. So, you and Scott. Anything happenin' in the sack?" And with that, Isaac tensed up again. _Great. Nice one, Stiles_, he thought to himself.

"We h-haven't been doing—anything like that—at all," Isaac mumbled, and oh was that a blush Stiles saw streaking slowly over the dragon's cheeks?

"Aw, c'mon. Why not?" Stiles playfully nudged Isaac, causing the other dragon to stumble a little slightly. "Wait, I may know why. Tell me, is it 'cause of the green scales?"

"No, uh, why?" Isaac asked, still frowning.

"Well 'cause, y'know, they're _green_."

Isaac shrugged. "So?"

Stiles groaned. "Come _on_. Please don't tell me I'm the only one here thinking about this."

"Um." Isaac looked utterly confused and Stiles tutted ridiculously like Isaac being confused is a major felony.

"The _scales_, Isaac! Haven't you ever wondered that oh, what if we have sex and then at the end I'm suddenly stuck wondering if I'm screwin' a _fern_!?"

Isaac scowled. "You're being silly."

Stiles squawked out a very high pitched roar. "Silly!? I am _not _being silly. I am, I am… uh, I am trying to help you sex it up with my best friend! Yep, uh huh, that's what I'm doing." Stiles nods and Isaac's eye twitches.

"Yeah… I think I'm good," he said, slowly edging away from Stiles. Stiles saw and moved closer. Isaac edged even further back.

"Dammit, Isaac, stop _moving_!"

"No! You're going to keep talking about me and Scott's sex life!"

"Wait… oh my god, Isaac wait! _You have a sex life_!?"

"ARRRGGGHH, _STILES_!"

* * *

"You did _what_!?" Scott yelped, eyes large and wider than saucers as he stood there flabbergasted, staring up at his best friend who had apparently tried to find out about his sex life from — Oh god. _Isaac_.

"Dude, _chill_ out, I was only fulfilling my part in the bro code." Stiles didn't see any reason why Scott should be freaking out. He asked Isaac if he and Scott were getting in any action yet. So what? It wasn't like a crime or anything. The _Bro Code _applied to these sort of things. _Bros before Hoes _wasn't the only sex related rule applied to their code. _Bros find out about your Sex Life _was also one of them.

Scott's flabbergasted face soon turned into a peeved off face. "Stiles, the bro code does _not _apply to you meddling in my relationship! What if he hates me now!?"

"I'm sure he doesn't hate you, Scott." Stiles rolled his eyes, doing a loopdy-loop in the air before coming to rest on the ground where Scott was standing. "In fact, that guy is so totally head over heels in love with you. He's not going to just start hating you because I decided the bro code was being neglected and tried to earn back my fair share of deets."

"Deets," Scott said lamely. "Stiles, that word is both sad, as is what you did. I mean, you're my _bro_. Bros don't do that to each other, man."

Stiles frowned. "Scott, are you—are you _angry _at me?"

Scott shook his head, eyes downcast. "No, Stiles. I'm not angry." He looked up again and when he did Stiles felt his wings droop at the betrayed expression on his best friend's face. "Just disappointed."

"I'm—I'm sorry, Scott," he murmured. "I didn't mean to make you upset. I'll—I'll keep my nose out of you and Isaac's relationship from now on, I swear." He pulled an innocent face, tilting his head a fraction to the side for effect. "I mean, what are bros for? Right?"

Scott's sad puppy eyes brightened and his snout twitched up in a small smile. "Dammit. Why can I never stay mad at you?" he teased.

Stiles smirked, eyelids drooping as he pursed his lips in a pout. "Aw Scotty, you _love me_," he said, voice honey sweet.

Scott laughed and gently wing slapped him. "Oh yeah, that's right. My friend's a nut."

"Hey!"

* * *

The next two flying lessons that week with Derek were, no doubt, two of the best—and funniest—ever. Derek had agreed to race him and, surprisingly, been okay with it. (He'd been begging the older dragon for _days_ to race him and now it was all paying off (_finally_,that is).

"Okay. The course will be 100 metres, because any more than that would just exhaust you—shut up, you know I'm right. Flying style will be freestyle, which is any style you want, since knowing you even if I gave a style for this race you'd just completely ignore it—don't bullshit me, you would—and do what you want. And finally, the time limit is infinite because, like I said before, listening to instructions is not really your strong point—yes, you do have a problem with it. And no, I am not arguing about this with you right now."

Hey, well, Stiles didn't say Derek was _nice _about it, did he?

Stiles had won the race. Stiles had _won the race_.

…but then it soon felt all too fishy for his tastes and he'd questioned Derek about it and—_BAM!_—Derek had gone easy on him.

The fucker.

Now, when he said the two flying lessons were both the best and funniest ever, Stiles had meant to make those two terms completely seperate. Day One had been the best. Day Two had been the _funniest_.

Why, you all ask?

Whelp, Derek had—and quite snicker worthily too—bit the dust. Literally.

"Oh my god dude, you just _crashed and burned _right there," Stiles laughed, and Derek—who was laying on the ground with his face mushed into the ground—looked up and honest-to-God death glared him. "Okay, no, I correct my statement. You just _kissed the dirt_—wait, no!—_bit the dust_!"

Derek growled, getting up and shaking himself off. _Not like a dog. Don't say that. He'll rip your throat out—with his teeth_, Stiles thought giddily. "Thanks, I wasn't aware," he snapped.

"Whoa, hey, calm down there Sour Mc'Growler," Stiles teased. "Who was to know that trying to land mid-turn would be worthy of biting the dust—or, well—kissing the dirt. Did the dirt like being kissed, Derek? Or did you fall too _hard _for it?" he cackled.

Derek growled again, deeper, before advancing towards Stiles with glowing blue eyes. When he was in close he said lowly, "Wanna repeat that, Stiles?"

Stiles gulped. "Uh, no dude, think you heard me."

"What if I didn't?" Derek leered.

"T-Then maybe you should listen to me better next time." Stiles squeaked when Derek loomed closer. "W-What are you doin'?" he stammered.

Derek chuckled darkly, "Oh nothing, just kissing the dirt," before he leaned forward, snout brushing Stiles' before pressing forward.

Oh. Yeah.

There was also the kissing thing.

That had been the _AWESOME _part of Day Two.

* * *

_**Okay, so yes, this chapter is later than I'd planned. School is seriously stressful. I've got this big 3 day excursion in Accounting where the class is going to KPMG (an Accounting firm in the City/Southbank) and we're going to have to give a presentation about Shares and the Share Market to the major Representatives and Managers who work there. I am really anxious and nervous about it (I am very shy when it comes to public speaking), so my brain hasn't been spouting out story ideas and words as it normally does. **_

_**I hope this chapter settles your quench of thirst for more of the story. Next chapter, I honestly do not know when it will be up. Please though, bear with me on this. I will not fail you guys. I will finish this story, even if it kills me. I promise.**_


	8. You're Mine (You Just Don't Know It Yet)

First day of Flying Season came sooner than Stiles expected. He'd accidently lost track of time, too absorbed in flying lessons with Derek and the blooming romance of his best friend and Isaac, to actually realize Flying Season was fast approaching until it was already time for it to begin.

Scott was over-enthusiastic, practically acting like a jumping jelly bean on crack, babbling on and on like an idiot in love. Apparently Flying Season wasn't the only time when you met your soul mate after all, 'cause believe it or not, Isaac and Scott were indeed in fact soul mates, and they'd met a week prior to the event. He and Isaac had hung around each other for the whole day, the two of them inseparable. It was quite adorable, really.

Jackson had won a number of events that day, the fucker. He's bragged about it like the over-ego prick he was, of course, and it had made Stiles just want to wing slap him off the side of a high cliff. Stiles pretended he didn't notice the grey scaled and bronze eyed dragon eyeing Jackson the entire time.

As for Stiles, well, he'd been on the sidelines. Watching other dragons compete was less terrifying than actually testing his own flying skills against them. He'd seen Derek there as well, across the meadow, and tried very hard not to blush when their eyes met. The older dragon hadn't talked about the kiss at all. Ever since that day Stiles had wanted to bring it up, yet was too scared of the reaction he would get. So to see Derek there today, looking gorgeous as ever, sent a shockwave of complicated feelings throughout his entire body. The rest of the day basically went by like that; with fire sizzling fierce and hot in his belly as he got more glances at and from Derek.

By the time the day was over, Stiles was exhausted (mentally more than physically). He'd said goodbye to Scott and Isaac — the two dragons smiling happily and seeing him off with bodies huddled closely together — and flew the slightly long way home. The wind was nice and smelled of meadow flowers and spring breeze, and Stiles' long fly home was peaceful and calming compared to how the rest of his day had been.

When he got home Stiles collapsed, tiredly, on his bed of pebbles, closing his eyes and folding his wings together as he fell asleep. His dad's gentle voice whispering, "Goodnight," was the last thing he heard.

* * *

The next morning when Stiles woke up, he woke up to a shadow looming over him and glowing blue eyes _right in front of his face_.

"Ahhh! Monster! Demon! _Dad! _HELP!" he yelled, squirming away in panic.

"Shhh! Stiles, calm down!" the thing hissed, and Stiles felt like he was going to have a panic attack when he noticed the thing had black scales and huge fangs— Wait, black scales?

"D-Derek?" he stammered, feeling a sense of calm when the thing — definitely Derek — nodded and huffed in annoyance. "Oh, thank _g__od_," he breathed, before pinching his snout in a frown. "You scared the hell out of me! What are you doing here?"

Derek just scowled. "You're late," is all he said.

Stiles yawned, a rumbling roar in his throat, before sighing tiredly. "Late for _what_? Derek, if you woke me up on a _Sunday _for training that you apparently "don't have" I will _burn you_," he warned.

"No, you idiot," Derek growled, looking like he was nearly at the point of burning _Stiles_. "Flying Season started _five hours ago_. You're. Late."

"_Oh_. Oh fuck. Fuckity fuckity fuck fuck _fuck_," Stiles cursed, wings flapping in a flurry as he flailed. He could see Derek biting back a smile — and was that the older dragon _snickering_?

"Stiles, calm down. I let them know you probably slept in, and told them I'd go and get you. You're not in trouble."

Stiles stopped, turning to Derek with a frown. "Who's they?"

"Melissa McCall and Alan Deaton. They're running Flying Season this year because Ms. Morrell couldn't be found and there was no one else." Derek gave Stiles a soft smile. "Unless I was willing, but I told them I couldn't because I was training you."

Stiles' frown deepened, even given the smile from the older dragon. "Wait, what do you mean Ms. Morrell couldn't be found? Did she like, go on a vacation or something?"

"No." Derek shook his head. "She wouldn't have. Not this close to Flying Season, at least."

"Then how is she missing?" Stiles had a feeling what the answer would be.

Derek sighed. "I don't know." His wings slumped. "I mean, I think I know what happened but…"

"But you're just not sure yet?"

Derek grunted, eyes narrowed. "Oh, I'm sure," he said angrily. "I'm just not going to say anything unless they come over here first."

Stiles' snout twitched. "Who a-"

"Come on," Derek said — more like snapped — cutting him off abruptly. "You're going to be competing today and the event starts in twenty minutes." He walked out of the cave before Stiles could reply.

"Oh, cool! Awesome!" _Wait. _Stiles froze. "I'm— _Oh_. Fuck."

* * *

When Stiles and Derek arrived at the meadow Stiles was instantly crowed around by Isaac, Scott, Jackson and the bronze eyed dragon Stiles had seen eyeing Jackson yesterday. They were all trying to get him to go in different directions that each held a different event.

"Stop!" Derek roared, and they all fell silent. "I already signed Stiles up for the speed course."

"S-Speed course!?" Jackson laughed. "No offence Hale, but penguin here can't fly for shit, and you want him to compete in the _speed course_? He's gonna get _pummeled_!"

"Hey now, that's not very nice," the bronze eyed dragon said in a disapproving tone. Jackson acually bowed his head and had the decency to look ashamed.

"But Danny, the kid's gonna get his ass _wiped out_ by those other dragons. I'm just trying to help him."

"By calling him a _penguin _and saying he's going to get his "ass wiped out"? Yeah, you're being very helpful. _Douche_." Danny then walked away, shaking his head. Before he did though, Stiles swore he caught a small smile from the other dragon.

Jackson muttered something under his breath, looking up. Scott and Isaac were giving him their best _I hope you die _looks while Stiles noticed that Derek was actually giving a real _I will kill you _look. Jackson must've knew what was good for him because he left quickly, chasing after Danny and telling him to "_WAIT UP DANNY! C'MON, I WAS JUST KIDDIN'_!"

"_Jesus_, the guy's such a dick," Stiles huffed. He heard a growl, noticing Scott and Isaac looking fearfully at— Derek? Derek? Because Derek was— _Oh_.

"Derek," he said, cautiously drawing the word out. "Um. Maybe we should go— go over to the speed course. Yeah. 'Cause you signed me up, remember? And— and I need to compete, like, right now. Because it sta-"

"I'll be right back," Derek said lowly, yet again cutting him off, before storming away in the direction of— Oh no.

"Derek! Derek, no! Wait!" Stiles yelled, leaving a shocked and bewildered Isaac and Scott to start running after the homicidal black dragon.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck_,he thought. _He's gonna kill Jackson. Jackson's dead. Oh fuckity fuck shit_.

* * *

As soon as Stiles caught up to Derek, the older dragon had Jackson pinned to the ground, his snout pressed against the ruby scaled dragon's throat, snarling and growling.

"Derek! Derek stop!" he cried, trying to bodily push the older dragon off Jackson. "_Stop it_. Don't— don't hurt him, okay. He's just a jerk with an over-ego problem. Not worth it, Derek. So just _let him go_."

"You standing up for me, feather brain? That's sweet, but I don't need your help," Jackson sneered, but gasped when Derek's teeth pressed down hard. "Ow. _Fuck_. Stilinski, get your monster of a boy toy _off me_."

"Wha— no— he's no— not my boyfriend!" Stiles spluttered, and Derek growled lowly. _Yeesh. _If he weren't in such a situation he would laugh at how Jackson just got burnt by his own statement about not needing help, but right now Derek was _literally_ so close to ripping Jackson's throat out — with his _teeth _— and he had to step in to stop that from happening.

"Stilinski! Get him the hell off me _now_!"

"Okay, okay!" He moved closer, rumbling a growl. "Derek, let him go."

Derek didn't budge.

Jackson snorted. "What did you think _that _was going to do? You can't growl for shit, Stiles."

"Oh, _shut up_. I'm trying to _help you_, you asshole," he snapped.

Jackson shut up, though clearly looked pissed about it.

"Alright, Derek, you have to let Jackson go." This one he made less a growl but more a demand.

Derek _still _didn't budge.

"Fucking _hell_," he snarled, getting pissed off. "Dammit Derek, let him _go_!" He extended his wing and smacked it across the older dragon's face.

Derek _budged_.

"Oh my god, did you just _wing slap _Hale?" Jackson chuckled, but Stiles didn't really hear him. He was more so paying attention to Derek. Derek who was looking at him in utter shock, blue eyes wide like he couldn't believe what had happened.

"I— I did…" he muttered, quietly to himself. "Oh fuck. Fuck, _no_. Nononono! Shit, I'm _sorry_, just you wouldn't let 'im go and I-"

"It's fine."

Stiles choked on nothing, and Jackson exhaled sharply.

"Y-You— _What_!?" he spluttered.

"I said it's fine," Derek said again, and Stiles felt a little worried about the soft tone the older dragon was using. Before Stiles could say anything, Derek was moving closer to him.

"Oh god, it's not fine is it? Y-You're going kill m-"

Stiles was cut off when a snout was pressed against his, but unlike last time it was pressed more firmly and oh my god was that Derek's _tongue_? When Derek pulled away Stiles' eyes were wide and surprised and his wings were tingling.

"Consider that as an apology for the way I've been acting the past few days," he said, gently pressing his snout to Stiles' again then pulling away. "I should have talked to you about it, not ignored the subject completely."

Stiles was frozen. "I-" He stopped, words somehow escaping him. The fierce hot fire in his belly he had felt ever since he'd met Derek was burning inside him, like a volcano waiting to explode.

Derek just smiled. "You don't have to say anything, Stiles."

"Yeah— heh, well buddy. I don't even think I _can _right now," he chuckled. "God, what— what now?"

"Well if I were you Stilinski, I'd run off to the _speed course _or else you'll miss that big important race you're going to win." Jackson actually sounded… very much like a douche. Which was a surprise. Yeah, that was _sarcasm _right there.

"Uh— _Oh_! Yeah! Better, uh, better get right on that!" He laughed nervously, giddily when Derek brushed wings with his own.

"Come on, I'll show you where the course is," the older dragon said, leading him away.

Stiles wasn't sure, but he swore he heard Jackson mutter, "Frickin' soul mates," under his breath.

* * *

**_Okay, so I have some bad news... This chapter is going to be the last, at least for a while. I have just got so much going on with school and my personal life, so this story will have to be put on hold for now. I really am sorry. When I get the time to continue this, I promise I will let you all know._**

**_Michelle xx_**


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